


Secret Admirer

by CircuitSaloon



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Drama, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28186644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircuitSaloon/pseuds/CircuitSaloon
Summary: Megatron writes love poems anonymously to someone who openly despises anyone or anything associated with Decepticons. This can't go well...or can it?
Relationships: Megatron (Transformers)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Secret Admirer

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea I talked about with some friends a while back and decided to start writing a fic for it. The canon characters might be written out of character a little bit so apologies in advance ^^;

Tarn was having _mixed feelings._

On one hand, he was being constantly watched and under constant surveillance while aboard the Lost Light. He was quite obviously a threat to these Autobots. But he couldn’t blame them. He was _Tarn_ after all.

On the other, much _better_ hand, he would be in the presence of Lord Megatron. Oh, be still his pulsing spark. It was _perfect._ He was the Co-Captain of this ship along with the flaming Primeling. It would grant them opportunity to seize the ship in the name of the Cause. It would take some time, though. Two against the rest of the ship. Well, three if you counted Ravage. They were blatantly outnumbered.

For now, he’d have to wait and play this patient game, slowly moving the pieces to the right positions. One of the major pieces being the Decepticon leader himself. Day after day, Tarn would make it his goal to remind Megatron of who he was and what he believed, instead of the _hideous_ Autobot emblem was placed on his torso.

He strode around the Lost Light looking for his lord, heading towards his personal quarters first. If he wasn't there, the next stop was the bridge. As he stood in front of Megatron’s door, he knocked twice and waited for a response. The door opened, and there stood Megatron wearing spectacles.

_“As dashing as ever,”_ Tarn thought to himself. “Lord Megatron,” he said aloud, his voice like thick velvet in the atmosphere.

“Just _Megatron,”_ the grey mech corrected.

“M-Megatron...” Tarn stuttered. My goodness, how _informal._

The older mech sighed. “What is it, Tarn?”

“I’d like to talk with you if you’re not too busy.”

_“Not again,”_ thought Megatron. Ever since he had been stationed on the Lost Light Tarn followed him around like a lost puppybot. It was pitiful, but given that no one else particularly cared for his being there, sometimes Tarn’s company was tolerable. “I _am_ busy, actually,” he replied to the purple mech.

“Oh. Very well...” Tarn turned around, his spark sinking a bit. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day to exercise his efforts for the Cause.

“Wait, Tarn.” Tarn turned back around toward Megatron, his optics lighting up at the sound of his name once again coming out of the other’s vocalizer. “I could actually use a second opinion on something.”

* * *

Once again, Tarn found himself stewing in mixed emotions. In his hands was a new, original work by Megatron. He always loved his poetry, especially his pre-war pieces. But these poems were... _different._ _Quite_ different.

_ They were love poems. _

“You of all people would know if I’ve lost my touch,” Megatron said. Tarn took it as a high compliment. _Of course he would know._ He had Megatron’s poems practically memorized. And by _practically_ of course he had them _literally_ memorized. He could recite them without fail and on command if instructed.

“You haven’t lost your touch,” Tarn assured him, his optics scanning over the lines of text again. He wasn’t sure if he was in some weird dream. Why was Megatron writing _romance?_ “I am curious, though,” he continued, “why you’ve started writing...these themes.”

“I’d ask that you refrain from prying into my _personal business,”_ Megatron replied sharply. Tarn’s optics blinked as Megatron took the datapad of poetry away, a bit stunned at the response. “Thank you for your input Tarn. You’re dismissed.”

“Oh. Yes, of course,” Tarn said, leaving the Co-Captain’s quarters. He was still trying to process what had happened. And what he had _read._

This would require further investigation.

* * *

Megatron reclined back into his chair, reading over his words again. He knew the formatting, grammar, and syntax were fine. Tarn certainly thought so. But that was _Tarn._ He wasn’t worried about what _Tarn_ thought.

Megatron was worried over the opinion of the person he had written the words for. This mech in particular was very vocal about his opinions of Decepticons and had quite the reputation preceding him. Anytime he caught sight of the Co-Captain, there was a grimace on his face. He wore an Autobot badge that wasn’t even authentic, yet he wore it anyway. He had a passion about him that rivaled Tarn’s. If Megatron was being honest, he thought he would make a great Decepticon, but if he ever told him that, the smaller mech would blow a gasket.

That’s why he had decided to send him the love poem anonymously.

* * *

Crowbar waited for his terminal to boot up. He wished the communications equipment were upgraded. What he was working with now was much slower than his old terminal back on the Satellite Space Station. So while he waited, he took out his datapad. He had developed a habit from his old job as a secretary to check emails first and he carried that habit with him as one of the staff members of the Lost Light’s communications team.

He looked and saw that there were several new items in his inbox. Most of them being memos from Ultra Magnus and other things sent by the higher ups. But there was one item that was different from the rest. It had been sent anonymously, and immediately he thought it must be spam or a virus of some sort. But it’s subject line was what piqued his interest. It read, _“A Poem for You.”_

The motorcycle scrunched his face into a look of confusion. A poem? For _him?_ Must be a mistake. No one wrote him poems. No one liked him enough to even hold a conversation with him. He doubted that this email had been sent to him intentionally.  He opened it anyway and read it.

And then he read it again.

And again.

After the third time, Crowbar felt his mouth curl into a grin, and a light heat rose to his metal cheeks. The author was definitely talking about him, describing parts of his frame so...so _eloquently._ His mind then began to wonder who on Cybertron could have written it. Who would have sent it? Who thought he was _this good looking?_ Well, whoever it was, Crowbar was definitely curious about them.

It was then that his terminal had finally booted up and he could begin his work for the day, albeit completely and utterly distracted.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this fic or the characters in it you can read more about them in Hammer & Nails, my original Transformers series in my Works section. You can also find me @CircuitSaloon on Twitter!


End file.
